Stain Glass Swing Set
by DoomNightAt12
Summary: Scent of a dream, taste of a nightmare. He was always afraid to lose them, but he had always thought he could do something. Batfamily, Character death.


_This is different. _

Bruce could feel a cold shiver travel down his spine. He was disorientated, his mind ticking into overdrive to assess the situation. The darkness surrounding him seemed oddly thick, as he tried to swallow he tasted sawdust and carnival treats.

It was a memory, warped to create a dream world.

It had been a long time since he had dreamt; rest only coming to him when exhaustion had dragged his eyelids past the point of no return. He still felt relatively in control of his thoughts, but his feet were cemented in place in the dirt. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on moving himself, but when he reopened them a spot light had lit up in front of him. High above the ground it illuminated a figure sitting on a single trapeze bar.

"Dick?"

The boy turned his gaze down. "Oh hello, Batman."

"What are you doing up there?"

"Waiting my turn."

The young bird looked away; swing his legs to gain momentum. The red and green streaks of his costume crept closer and closer to the edge of the spot lights reach, yellow cape trailing not too far behind. From below, Bruce felt something twist in the pit of his stomach.

His words seemed heavy on his tongue, "Why don't you come down?"

"It's okay Batman, I can do this."

In one fluid motion Dick stood up on the thin bar, pushing from his knees to his feet to force himself almost vertical with the ground. At the peak of his swing, he smiled down at his guardian.

"Sorry Batman, I'll try to do better next time."

Suddenly he was in free-fall, before landing head first into the dust with an audible thud and crack. The crumpled body laid a few metres ahead of Bruce, but even from the distance he could see blood seeping into the yellow fabric. His gut did backflips now, mind desperately wishing for his feet to move, but all he could do was stare. It was somewhere around the time of his mental punching that he saw a flicker of movement at the edge of the light.

The next young figure moved with swift determination. His face was a mix of dried blood and green purple bruises, his clothes were torn to reveal deep gashes, and one of his legs gave out more than the other to add a hobble to his step. He stopped with his back to Bruce, hovering over his fallen predecessor.

"Jason…"

Suddenly the boy was pulling at the corpse, and Bruce thought he was going to be sicks. After some jostling the battered youth had pulled the stained yellow fabric out and up in his shoulders, before turning around with a crooked smile. His broken teeth bent in the same direction as his nose, making his face look slanted, or perhaps it was due to the lean.

"I look pretty good, don't cha think Batman?"

Jason reached out a hand towards Bruce, before his uncertain leg gave out, and he collapsed to join the blood pool as another lifeless mess.

_Not a dream. Nightmare._

He didn't want to watch anymore, but he was still struggling to move. With all his emotions he began to feel a twitch in his hands, a small success that was taken away by a smaller hand slipping to his. The feeling led his eyes once more to a black haired youth, a quiet smile dancing on his lips as he gazed at the bodies.

"It's okay Batman, I can do this."

"Tim…"

Repetitive circles, the third boy ripped the cape from the second. Fastening it around his neck, he performed a quick spin before smiling back at Bruce. His mind chanted furiously that Tim would be fine. _Was_ fine. He was fine and safe and not-

The spotlight catches the red covered metal protruding from Timothy's chest, moving ever so smoothly as it deposits him on the growing pile. He'd seen it coming, but that's not to say it didn't hurt. The fourth stands strong, fire burning in his eyes. He tears the yellow from the body and holds it above his head like a war trophy, moving the blades point to aim at Bruce.

"I am the true son of the Batman. No one will deprive me of this title. Not even Batman himself!"

Suddenly the blade is no longer in the boys' hand, but in Bruce's chest. It aches as the spotlight slowly fades out, thick darkness rapidly encasing him. The four boys fall from sight, and the dark rushes to fill his lungs…

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

The first thing he sees is numbers, slow, blinking, red numbers. He trains his mind on them and them alone. After a few long moments he makes out 4:37, and choses to release the breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.

He wouldn't go back to sleep, couldn't. He slipped on his dressing gown, noting the sweat drenching his body, and left the grand bedroom. Wandering the halls of the manor was all he could handle, pushing away the thoughts of the nightmare. Before long Bruce had made his way to the theatre room, known to hold the largest TV and a full couch to fit 5 people.

Oddly, the TV was still on, letting out a quiet drone into the hall. Slipping fingers around the edge of the frame, Bruce peeked in. To his surprise the couch was occupied by four sleeping figures.

Dick sat towards one end, a smile rested on his face as Damian was tucked against his left side. On his right sat Tim, head bowed over a bowl of popcorn. To the opposite end of the couch sat Jason, chin resting in his palm, but still appearing relaxed.

The sight chased away the last thoughts of the nightmare, and as silent as he could, he placed himself in the space between Jason and Tim. He released a sigh.

And no further breaths escaped the occupants of the room.

* * *

_AN: I was avoiding homework, but wanting to write. This just happened to be on the top of my ideas list which is about twenty or so different plots and drabbles._


End file.
